Selfish

by Shantel Tessier

  She’s so wet. I can feel the heat between her thighs. My finger slowly teases her as I run them up and down her pussy. I could push them into her wet pussy right here, but I wanna make her squirm. Make her beg. I don’t know what made her change her mind about crawling back in bed with me, but I’m not gonna fuck it up. I’m prepared to show her everything I got and more.

  “Ryder—” The car coming to a stop interrupts whatever she was about to say.

  “Hold that thought, darling,” I tell her as I softly kiss her lips. As I pull away, she leans in wanting more, but I don’t give it to her.

  I open the door and grab her hand to help her out. “Thanks, Milton. I’ll see you in the morning,” I say in a rush.

  “Yes, sir,” I hear him call out as I’m dragging her up the stairs of our apartment building. We make our way through the lobby with one of her hands in mine while my other is on the small of her back, guiding her to the elevator. We have to share it with another older couple who I know well. I make small talk with the husband, Jerry, but I only pretend to look at him. Instead, I look past him into the mirror as I watch Ashlyn stand beside me. Her eyes are heavy and her lips parted. She’s breathing heavy. She’s ready for me, and I couldn’t be more ready for her.

  They stay on the elevator, heading for the pool that is located on the roof, so we don’t get the chance to be alone. I say goodbye and wish them a good night as we exit. Entering my apartment, I spin around, already unbuttoning my shirt, when she grabs me and pulls me toward her. “Now finish what you started,” she demands, letting go of me as she undoes her thin black belt. She then shoves the skirt down her legs and steps out of it.

  My chest rumbles from a deep groan when I see her shaved pussy. She doesn’t even bother to unbutton her shirt; she just lifts it up and over her head. The sight of her tan lace bra produces a growl deep inside my chest. It’s nothing fancy, but the way it looks on her makes my mouth water. “Remove it,” I order. She does without hesitation.

  I stand motionless and speechless as my eyes rake over her naked body. All she has on are her black high heels, and my dick presses against my zipper, reminding me that my dreams don’t even compare to what she looks like in person. Her perky tits bounce as she breathes deeply. Her pink nipples hard and her pussy so wet, I can see it from where I stand. “What was it that I started?” I ask, arching a brow. I want her to tell me. I wanna hear her say it.

  She takes a step toward me and grabs my hand. Without a word, she places it between her legs. “This,” she hisses.

  She’s wetter than she was in the car. I remove my fingers, and she whimpers. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m still gonna kiss your lips,” I tell her before I lift her up and place her on the dining room table. It’s the closest thing to us. I spread her legs and fall to my knees on the floor. Throwing her legs over my shoulders, I bury my face in her pussy.

  She arches her back and moans as I taste her. “Oh … God …” she cries out as I fuck her pussy with my tongue. I moan against her sex, and she whimpers, bucking her hips. I grip her hips so tightly, she’ll have bruises afterward, but I don’t care. She doesn’t care. Her cries and her gasps fuel me to continue. To eat her until she comes. I wanna taste her just as badly as she wants to let go. We’ve both been starving.

  Her hands dig in my hair, and she yanks on it. I release her hips and grab her wrists. I pin them down to the table by her hips. Her pussy gets wetter.

  I slowly pull away. “You like that, sweetheart?” I ask, slowly running my tongue over her lips. She shudders, and I grip her wrists tighter. “You like when I hold you down and take it?” I turn my head and bite into her sensitive thigh. She gasps, her hips bucking wildly.

  “Yes,” she says breathlessly. “Take it. Please,” she begs, and I smile before biting her the inside of her other thigh.

  I gently kiss her skin, making my way back to her wet lips. She gasps as I suck her clit into my mouth. She fists her hands, and she arches her back, but I keep her in place. “I want you to come on my tongue, baby.” She moans as I bury my head back in her pussy and give her exactly what she wants.

  ASHLYN

  I wander aimlessly around Ryder’s apartment with a blanket wrapped around my naked body that I removed from the couch while he went to take a phone call. I wanted his cock after he fucked me with his tongue, but his phone rang, and he apologized, saying he had to take it.

  So here I am being nosy. His is so different from my and Becca’s apartment. Ours is all white and full of pops of color here and there. His is much darker. Manlier. And I like it. The kitchen is nothing but stainless appliances and black countertops with a dark gray backsplash.

  The living room has two black leather couches and one dark red loveseat. The floors are a beautiful black wood, and I try to stay off them by stepping only on the dark rugs while still wearing my heels.

  I turn away from the floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room and see a winding staircase over in the far corner. Is his a two story?

  I hear him talking on his phone down a hallway, so I decide to go up the stairs. Pulling the blanket up, so I don’t trip over it, I make my way up the winding stairs.

  As I come to the top, my eyes widen. Ten bookshelves, five shelves tall, line the far wall. A desk sits in the middle of the room with a computer and printer on it. There’s a family picture of him, Becca, and his mom and dad on the far wall from the day of Becca’s high school graduation. She is wearing her cap and gown. Ryder has his arm over her shoulders with a proud smile on his face. I smile as I start to look over the books that occupy the shelves.

  I run my hands over the spines as I take in the smell of the books. I’ve always loved to read. Ever since I could remember, my mother would always say that I preferred fiction over reality. I read the titles as I look them over. Steve Jobs by Walter Isaacson, To Kill A Mockingbird by Harper Lee, and a few that look to have to do with stock trading and investments. A couple of self-help books. One bookcase is full of books that look to be from his college classes.

  “Find anything you like?”

  I jump up and spin around when I hear Ryder’s voice. “I’m so sorry …” I say as I see him now standing at the top of the stairs in his office, his arms crossed over his chest while he leans up against the doorjamb. Still fully dressed. I run a hand through my hair nervously. “I …”

  He waves off my concern and smiles softly. Pushing off the door, he walks in. “I was serious. See anything you like?”

  I give him a shy smile, still embarrassed he caught me in here. I take a deep, calming breath, trying to slow my racing heart. “You don’t have many romance novels,” I say, trying to lighten the mood.

  He arches an eyebrow. “Romance, huh? I wouldn’t peg you to be that type of woman.” He steps up to me and runs his knuckles down the side of my cheek.

  “What does that mean?” I ask, leaning into him.

  He pulls his hand away and shrugs. “You just don’t seem like the kind of girl who believes in fairy tales.”

  I snort. “Fairy tales and romance are two very different things,” I state.

  “How so?”

  “Fairy tales are for children,” I say with an eye roll.

  “And romance?” he questions.

  “Romance is associated with love,” I say with a careless shrug.

  He stands there, studying my face for a few seconds before he speaks again. “And what book is your favorite romance?”

  I smile. “Romeo and Juliet.”

  He frowns. His dark green eyes looking into mine with confusion. “Most would call that a tragedy.”

  “Most would be wrong,” I argue.

  “They die.”

  “Yes, I know,” I say flatly.

  He runs his hand through his spiked hair. “How is that romantic?”

  “Have you ever loved someone so much that you couldn’t see a life without that person? That you would rather die than live without them?” I ask.

  His brows pull t
ogether, but he shakes his head softly. “No.”

  “Neither have I.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  RYDER

  “I’m confused,” I admit, trying to figure out how we went from her screaming my name as she came to us standing in my office discussing love.

  “That’s the kind of love I want,” she declares with a smile. “When I decide to look for it. I want that soul-crushing, all-consuming love.”

  “Sounds like it will make you crazy.”

  “Love is crazy,” she says seriously. “You don’t know who you really are unless you lose yourself. And love makes you lose yourself. True love is messy. And it will drive you crazy.”

  I reach out and grab the blanket from her hands. I open it up to expose her very naked body to me. She’s still only wearing her black heels. “You’re driving me crazy,” I say truthfully.

  She laughs. “What are you gonna do about it?” she asks.

  “I have several ideas,” I say as a matter-of-fact. I drop the blanket to the floor and say, “Lay down.”

  An hour later, we are lying in my bed. She sighs as she rolls over and I wrap my arm around her, and her phone starts to ring. Letting go of her, she crawls off the bed and picks her phone up off the nightstand. She looks down at it and then places her finger to her lips to signal me to be quiet. I frown but do as she says.

  “Hello?” she asks and then takes a deep, calming breath. “Hello, sir.” My eyes widen. Who could she be talking to? She closes her eyes and smiles widely. “Yes, sir. That is perfect.” There’s a pause. “Thank you, sir.” She hangs up and starts jumping up and down.

  “What was that about?” I ask, sitting up.

  She tosses her phone on the floor. “I got the job at the gallery.”

  She got the job? “What?”

  She jumps up and down before hopping on the bed. She straddles me and smiles down as her blond hair falls over her left shoulder and lands on my chest while she leans over me. “I got the job at the gallery.”

  “That’s great,” I tell her, but she already knows that.

  “God, I’m so excited,” she says, shaking my body, and I laugh. She looks down at me and gets a serious look on her face. “I’ve always wanted to run my own gallery.”

  “Really?” I ask, reaching up and pushing her hair behind her ear.

  She nods. “I’ve always dreamed of being surrounded by art. I want to give all artists a chance to show the world what they can do. ”

  “What about the rest of your dreams?”

  She tilts her head to the side. “What do you mean the rest?”

  “You know a family. Kids.”

  Her smile brightens. “I believe a woman can have a career and a family, Ryder.”

  “I agree with you, but do you want that?”

  She nods. “Of course. Someday, I want to find that guy who shares the desire for a family. But I’m in no rush at the moment.”

  “Have you been hurt before?” I ask, pushing her.

  “Is this twenty questions?” she asks, her eyes narrowing just the slightest.

  “No.” I shake my head. “I just wanna get to know more about you.”

  “More?” She laughs, her eyes softening again. “You make it sound like you already know stuff about me.”

  “Well, I do.”

  “Like what?” she asks, arching a brow to challenge me.

  I smile up at her as I look into those bright blue eyes. “I know that no matter how tough you try to be, you’re a softie. I know that you treat your best friends like family. And I know that when my sister had no one, you stepped up and were her everything.”

  She gives me a soft smile. “She needed me, and I was there. It was a simple decision.”

  “Now, back to men,” I say, and she rolls her eyes. “What’s the story about the guy who dumped you in a newsletter?”

  “Did Becca tell you about that?” she asks, chuckling.

  I shake my head. “No, you brought it up when she was upset over Conner in Panama City. If I remember correctly, you said she spent three days sitting on the couch drinking wine and eating ice cream when he dumped you in a newsletter.”

  She nods, making her hair fall out from behind her ear. “That’s pretty much how it went.”

  “But you also told me while we were in Florida that you’d never had your heart broken.”

  “Broken? No. Been pissed off? Yes.” She lets out a long breath. “I just can’t stand men like Conner. I’m all for getting laid and having fun—obviously—but you can still hook up with a woman and respect her.”

  I nod my head in agreement. “I agree.”

  “Our sophomore year, I had taken this journalism class.” My brows rise. “I know, not even remotely related to art, but I wanted to take it. I started dating a guy in the class. We weren’t even a couple. Just a few dates here and there, and of course, we were sleeping together. Well, for our final grade, we had to construct a newsletter. The bastard had one of his smart friends hack into the school newsletter and sent his to the entire school, where the fucker dumped me in it.”

  I can’t help but laugh. “You’re joking.”

  She slaps me on my bare chest. “No joke. I couldn’t care less that he dumped me. I mean, it made him look stupid since we weren’t even a couple, but it was what he said that pissed me off. He called me a clingy, manipulating bitch and that I would only fuck with my clothes on because I was insecure about my body.”

  “What an ass,” I say, but I’m still laughing.

  “Yeah, I’m pretty sure you can go online and hashtag clingy Ashlyn, and a ton of tweets will pop up.” She shrugs carelessly. “But anyway, I got him back.”

  “Oh God, what did you do?”

  She smiles an evil smile. “He had a phobia of clowns. So one night, I bought a big orange wig, a clown outfit, and I painted my face like a clown. I knew his late class was on a Tuesday, so I climbed a tree and waited for his class to get out. I jumped out of the tree right in front of him and scared the shit out of him.” She laughs. “He actually peed his pants, and your sister was off to the side recording it.”

  I laugh out loud. “Becca never told me about that.”

  “She was my sidekick in several revenge plots. Well, I did all the heavy lifting, and she just held the camera. Anyway, after that, I broke into his apartment and put the costume along with the wig in his closet so when he opened his closet door, he would pee himself again.”

  “Did you get that on camera?” I ask, smiling.

  She frowns. “No. But I’m hopeful that it happened.”

  I laugh as I lift my hands to her face. “You are such a bad girl.”

  “I’m not bad. I just believe in karma.”

  ASHLYN

  I wake to the sound of a shower running. I sit up and push blond hair from my face as I look around at the room I slept in last night. Ryder’s bedroom. His walls are painted a soft gray like the rest of the apartment. His bed sits up on a platform in the center of his room with the headboard back against the wall. A massive TV hangs on the wall across from the bed.

  I get out of bed and make my way to the bathroom. I lean up against the countertop as I watch him wash his muscular body in the shower. “Morning,” I say.

  He opens the door immediately. Soap covers his body and his hair is wet, hanging in his eyes. He pushes it back, and it stands straight up like I like it. He smiles. “Good morning, Sunshine.”

  I hate how he has these pet names for me. They make me feel all warm inside. He steps to the side of the door and jerks his head. “Won’t you join me?”

  “Don’t mind if I do,” I say as I push off the countertop and step inside.

  He shuts the door and pulls me under the sprayer. I squeal as to how cold it is. “It’s freezing,” I whine.

  “Oh no, it’s not. It’s perfect.” He hugs me tightly.

  I’m shivering. “Are you crazy?” My teeth start to chatter.

  “I take cold showers in the morning to
help me wake up,” he admits.

  “That’s what coffee is for,” I say, pressing myself into his hard chest. Even that isn’t gonna warm me up.

  He chuckles. “Okay. Okay.” He pulls away from me and turns it warmer.

  I place my body under it as I feel it start to heat up. “Much better,” I say with a sigh as it heats up my body.

  He laughs and moves behind me. He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me to his chest. “I can think of another way to heat you up,” he offers.

  I turn in his arms and look up at him. “Thought you weren’t awake yet?”

  He smiles. “I’m suddenly wide awake.”

  “Well, I’m still cold,” I lie.

  ***

  I’m standing in his bedroom, dressing in my clothes from yesterday when he comes walking out of his closet dressed in another fabulous suit that makes my knees weak. “What are your plans for tonight?” he asks as he does his tie.

  “Why?” I ask slowly, wondering where this is going.

  “I thought we could go to dinner—”

  “No,” I interrupt him before he can finish.

  He drops his tie and comes to stand in front of me. “What’s wrong with dinner?”

  I reach up and continue with his tie where he left off. “I’m okay with this,” I admit. It can’t go any farther than this.

  “This being?”

  “Sex,” I answer. “But nothing else.” I look him in the eyes as I say it.

  “And dinner implies something else?” he asks arching a dark eyebrow.

  I nod. “It implies dating.”

  “You make that sound like such a bad thing.”

  I freeze with his tie and look up at him. “It is,” I say flatly. “I’m all for sex, Ryder, but that’s as far as this is gonna go.”

  “Is this another rule?” he asks jokingly.

  “Yes,” I answer without hesitation.

  Something tenses in his jaw, but then he asks, “What about being friends?”

  I bite the inside of my cheek as I think about that. Are we friends? I would say that can be a possibility. “Sure.”

  He smiles in satisfaction as if he just won an argument. “Friends eat dinner together.”